


Ghosts Keeping Me Awake

by bedlinens



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedlinens/pseuds/bedlinens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TW for Abuse. Takes places after season 5's finale. Carol comes to certain realization about herself and her archer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why Do I Carry Such a Weight On My Shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to kaoscarze82 from NL for betaing this!

Carol turned in her bed, trying to get some sleep, the semblance of rest, so that the day which was already dawning would be more bearable.

Reg had died three weeks ago, and Pete had been shot the same day. Morgan had come back, if one could say. He had been one instance when the different layers of their group had showed: to Daryl, Carl, and Michonne, Morgan was old news, an old companion of some sort, even if they hadn’t really traveled with them. Carol remembered leaving the quarry with instructions for Morgan and Duane to follow. She remembered hearing Rick try to reach him on the talkie when they were at Hershel’s farm. To Rosita Abraham and more, he was news however, and between the moment when the group had been separated, and reunited, no one had brought up Morgan again, as Rick had seemed to grieve for his friend, after encountering him when they had been at the prison. It had taken them by surprise, in such a fashion it took Michonne to ask him how he was, mentally, if he was still paranoid. Paranoia was such a weird concept during a Zombie Apocalypse, but Morgan had reassured them that he had found peace, and that from what he could see, Rick was in need of some.

Morgan's presence was a blessing, she supposed. He had taken it upon himself to help Rick find that inner peace which had been failing him since Lori died. Carol didn't know how they proceeded and what they did, but piece by piece, Rick was losing his crazy edge, and the man he truly was had started showing again for those who wanted to see or meet him. 

In the meantime, the clan had taken over the safe zone, in the friendliest military coup ever. Tacitly, Carol had stepped up, and was leading carefully but firmly the Alexandrians on a path that was more likely to keep them alive. Rick should have been the one doing it, but since he needed time to work on his sanity, the group had made a choice. Carol, as the nice people person who made cookies for everybody, had appeared naturally as the perfect person to speak for them next to Deanna. Both the Alexandrians and her people had turned to her, the former because they just didn't know her but liked the stepford wife attitude, and the latter because they knew she was a wolf in sheep clothing, with a degree in diplomacy and politics. 

Step by step, Carol had started working with Deanna, who was grieving for her husband but at the same time was extremely aware of the fact that her people needed her. It had been a game of touch and go. When Carol had mentioned that there should be a mandatory weaponry class for all children above seven, it hadn't gone well with Deanna. With Maggie's help, they had worked it out, coming up with a curriculum of some sort, which took into account several age groups, and applied different lessons for each. While the older children who were really teens would learn how to handle a knife and a gun, the younger would be taught how to run and how to hide, how to know when they needed to hide or run. Some of the parents had objected, but Deanna had only needed to drop Reg's name, and everybody had come to see things her way. Reg had been the most peaceful and the most ill-equipped person of them all, and they all could relate to him and to what had happened to him, in their own ways. The adults were taking lessons too, after they were done with their daily work. Abraham was having almost too good a time turning grown men into crying babies by making them do drills and get in shape for the Apocalypse. Rosita was in charge of the female population and was no softer on her students, though she didn't exhibit the same emotions

There were classes for everybody to learn to shoot, close combat classes too. The Alexandria Safe Zone had almost turned into a military academy. Everybody from the clan would end up teaching one day or another. 

Every day, she would sit with Deanna, and Maggie, and they would discuss the next item on the agenda. Abraham and Glenn had been very firm on the parts of the walls that needed work done ASAP, and Carol would discuss with Deanna allocation of working force to those tasks. Deanna was at ease in those exercises, saying it reminded her of being in government, when you had to argue and parlay for every little thing, let alone the big ones.

As they were walking out, a class was taking place in order to teach people to defend themselves when attacked/ On top of Rosita and Abrahama, Glenn, Tara and Sasha were teaching. Deanna had turned to Carol, and said watching her with hawk’s eyes: "You're not following those classes." 

Carol hadn’t answered, as it was not a question. No, she wasn't part of the crowd being taught how to survive. Yes, she knew how to survive. It was up to the official to work it out on her own.

"You're no soccer mom, aren't you?" Deanna said.

"I know how to make amazing cookies," Carol answered, looking at Maggie over Deanna's shoulder.

Neither lie nor confess, it was a fine line, but it was the only way people in Alexandria would realize who she was. They needed to see her not attending those classes at first, and then they would need her to join as an instructor, for them to get the real picture. She hoped by then Rick and Morgan would have been done with their soul searching. Diplomacy was grating on Carol's nerves.

Then again, upon countless hours of discussion with the Alexandrian leader, it had become clear to Carol that if Rick had tried to become the interlocutor on the clan's behalf, things would have gone sour really fast. Deanna only saw him as an executioner, no matter how much they sung his praises. She had ordered him to end a life, but that didn't mean she was ready to buy everything on the Rick Grimes brochure. In the meantime, Maggie and Carol were doing the best they could, to deal with Deanna, who was by no means a fool and could see that she had two opponents at times. However, she had the political experience they lacked, and it made up for the moments when she was outnumbered. Things were working out fairly ok, though Deanna knew that she would need to talk to Rick when he was done searching for his soul. She had expressed concerns, but Carol and Maggie hadn’t changed their tunes. He was still their leader.

It was still a pain in the ass, and Carol couldn't wait to shed her negotiator skin.

However, this was not what was keeping her awake then. When she had left Deanna with Maggie, she had crossed paths with Jessie, and she couldn't shake the encounter off.

"Hey Carol," the blonde had said, looking at her but avoiding her eyes.

"Jessie," she had greeted her, wondering if it was deceit or nerves which were making the woman advert her eyes.

"How are things?"

"How are things for you? How is the training going?"

She sort of wanted to ask about Sam and Ron, but at the same time she didn't want to know. It was their business.

"Well, it's okay. Rosita is a good instructor."

This was going nowhere, Carol thought, and she kept on replaying the list of everything she had to do before nightfall, such as the inventory with Olivia, and a point with the clan to see what should be the next target of their efforts. She just didn't have time for awkward conversation. She hoped the woman didn't want to talk to her about Rick. After the days she had had fighting Deanna, Carol had allowed herself to not be his biggest fan right then. Sure, the leader talked to her, but Rick would be back, and he would want to sit at the grown up table, not at the kiddie table with the rest of the Alexandrians. He would get his seat, she’d make sure of that, but she still allowed herself those days when she was not his fan.

"I was told... I was told I could talk to you... About Pete. About before," Jessie said, surprising Carol in so many ways.

"Who said that, and why would you?"

"I heard people from your family, talking about your experience, and I..."

Jessie sighed. Carol wanted to bolt. Yes, she had been an abused wife. Yes, she had had a violent husband. Yes, she had prayed for him to die. That didn't give her credentials to do any therapy work with a fellow abuse victim. Furthermore, Carol didn't want to think of herself as a victim. 

"It's just so hard, the boys, they know and they knew, but now their father is gone, and he killed Reg, and I'm supposed to give them answers when I need some myself. Like, why me? Why him? Why did he get violent, and why did he feel like it was normal to hit me?"

"All very valid points," Carol agreed, unsure what she was expected to say.

She was usually like a cat, bouncing back and moving forth, unscathed, but something was keeping her firmly in place when all she wanted was to run away from the girl. Yes, she had helped in freeing her from her abusive husband but that didn't mean she wanted to do anything more. She didn't want to do anything less, having gotten rid of Pete had felt like she was getting rid of an anvil stuck to her soul, but as she stood next to the blonde, she realized that there were more anvils, and not all of them had any plans to go anywhere. 

"It's true, that you were abused?" Jessie asked.

"My husband was abusive, yes," Carol answered.

She had never said those words before. She had alluded to it, with Merle, with Beth, with many of them, but she had never used those exact words, yet they felt extremely important. She realized that while she had been a victim for a very long time, she didn't want to think of herself as such. However, the anvils weighing down on her soul were making her realize bitterly that just because she didn't want to think of herself as such, it didn't mean she had stopped being a victim, no matter how much she hated it. 

"But you managed to get away from him... You did it and I didn't, I was lucky enough to have people and..."

Carol tuned out, biting her tongue so badly she felt the taste of rust in her mouth. There was no degree in abuse, nobody had it worse, and nobody had it better than other. Abuse was abuse, period. However, she couldn't see herself telling Jessie to stop saying things like that she'd been lucky. Luck had never been on their side, or the abusive assholes would have just strolled by and never stayed in the picture.

She was reminded of Ed, of how he was at first, all nice and how she thought she could love him, because he respected her. That respect had gotten flushed down the toilets the first time he had smacked her. Then again after the second time, and the third.... The respect he had had for her had been tossed out along with her self-respect. She had accepted the flowers the morning after, and the promises that it would never happen again, even when it had been the tenth or twentieth occurrence. She had accepted his words and his fake gestures. If the Turn hadn't taken place and she hadn’t gotten so good at knowing when to disappear and when to nod along, she would probably be dead.

She trembled and Jessie stopped talking, concerned. Carol realized that she hadn't listened to a word the woman had said.

"Jessie, I am very sorry you had to go through what you went through, and I hope Pete is sitting in hell with Ed, my husband. I can see that you have questions, but you need to see that..."

It was hard to find the words, so many thoughts running through her head...

She remembered the blows, even when she had done everything perfectly. There was always something missing, or something she’d say, which could turn the man into a monster. She remembered when he would use her and abuse her, just because he could. The images were coming back in waves and she felt like it was happening all over again.

The blonde was watching her, so Carol forced herself to say:

"You need to talk about all of this with somebody competent. The fact that I went through something labeled abuse doesn't mean I know what you suffered or that you know what I went through. The pain, we share it, the shame as well, but that doesn't mean we're supposed to be talking about it. There's no shame to have, and it's taken me a long time to be able to talk about what Ed used to do, though I never go in details with people, but that doesn't mean I'm anywhere near ready counseling someone who went through this too. Hell, I haven't dealt with any of it myself. I’ve only scratched the surface as far as I needed to, in order to keep moving, one day at a time..."

She could see that Jessie was hurt, but she had to see that she was hurt too. In fact, she had never stopped hurting, except for a few moments here and there. 

"I think you should discuss it with Deanna. She used to know you and Pete. She took some decisions, sometimes pretended not to see anything, and I don't know if you're okay with that, so maybe not Deanna, but someone from here for sure, someone that would know better about what you suffered and would know you better. If you're talking about being lucky because we came along and I could spot a fellow abuse victim, then okay, feel that way, but Jessie... I can't help you deal. I don't know how. If I knew, I would have tried to make it happen for me. I mean no disrespect, but I'm really not the person you want to talk abuse with."

And she was not the person Carol ever wanted to discuss her abuse with. She never wanted to discuss it, period, but when she had, beyond the average reflection on her previous self, it had always been with Daryl. He understood, even when he didn't.

"Carol..."

She didn't listen to what the blonde had to say, and went on her way to the house. She felt like her skin was about to peel off and she had no idea why, or maybe too many ideas to explain it. 

She had gone straight to her bed, knowing Maggie would take care of the details they needed for the next day.

She had been lying in her bed ever since. She was having realization after realization, and it was painful. She was finally seeing that she never really had the time or the luxury to think about the life she had had with Ed. Rationally, she knew she hadn't deserved anything he had dished out, but she was realizing that there was a part of her, no matter how small, who would always be Ed's scared wife. Facing Pete the first time around had made it crystal clear and she had been left shaking, and in sweat. 

Alexandria was both a blessing and a curse. When they had been out, fighting every day for one more day, she never had to consider those things, she never had to wonder what she would have done if walkers hadn't taken care of Ed. In the wild, she never had time to consider her choices, and while she could pride herself that she had made no rash decisions. No matter how painful and controversial, she would always stand by her decision to end Karen's and David's lives, for the sake of the children everywhere around them. She had looked out for the greater good. 

However, other decisions, she was realizing hadn't been decisions. She had never decided to make Ed stop.

It was a dagger in her heart. She remembered how she had cried and how she had apologized when Shane had beaten the shit out of Ed, but Carol had never considered leaving him. She had only been afraid that in wanting to save her, the others would have angered Ed so badly that her life would truly be in jeopardy. She had been afraid she would die, that he would decide she was not worth anything anymore, and that beating her was not satisfactory. She had thought this was the end for her. She had told Daryl that the person she used to be had been burnt away, but she was discovering some of that person was still there, embers of some sort.

She had never decided to kill Lizzie. She hadn't had a choice. Sure, people could argue ad nauseam that she had made a choice, that she could have banished the girl, but Lizzie had been just that, a girl, and banishing her would have meant killing her, especially given her desire for a walker friend. When Tyreese had defected and said he couldn't do it, she had had no choice. There had been no decision to make, only a conclusion to come to, yet it kept her awake at night. Whenever she crossed paths with a child walker, especially blonde ones, she was overcome with self-loathing, and the need to shout. She was beyond crying she had realized, she was in a place where she couldn't keep things to herself.

Except, it was exactly what she had been doing. Ever since they had gotten to Alexandria, she had put on new stupid clothes and started playing a game. She had shut down everybody, even Rick and Daryl. One would even say especially Daryl. It made her feel like shit. He had been in such an awful place, and she knew how shitty it was, as she had been there just before he was. However, when she had been in that place, he had been there for her, silently, but steadily. He had followed, he hadn't bothered her with questions, he had made it clear he was ready to listen. After Beth's death, she had made him the same offer, to be there for him, but she realized she hadn't delivered. As soon as they had gotten in Alexandria and she had realized she had been living next to a man beating his wife, she had retreated into herself, and while she may have made plans with Daryl and Rick, she hadn't opened up to them. She had told Rick about Pete, and she wondered if she had tried to use him as an executioner, the same way Deanna had done in the end. 

She wondered where Rick was at. She didn't want to pry, but they needed their leader. They could all make do and take on some of his responsibilities, but there was a reason people moved toward a form of government where they left the power of decision to someone they had chosen and elected: they needed someone to see the bigger picture, as the pictures in each of their heads was different from the person next to them. Carol had been focused on the bigger picture, and she saw now that it had allowed her not to ponder things that were popping up.

Sam was another element she had to consider. She didn't want to be around children, she didn't have the strength to care for another child and lose him or her, yet the little bugger had held on and had wormed his way into her life. When Pete and Rick had gone at it, Sam had looked for shelter with her and she had protected him. She was reminded of Sophia, her precious baby who she had not been able to protect. She had come to terms with the fact that she would never see her daughter again, but it was a different matter when it came with dealing with how she had died. Carol held on to the idea that her daughter had been dead and in Heaven long before they had found her in that barn, but it still woke her at night sometimes, seeing the shell of who her daughter had been, and the corpse they had buried. It seemed that Carol was like a honey pot for children, and it made her feel bad as she was afraid to get close to any of them. Sophia and her fate were always there in the back of her mind. She had not been able to protect her, it felt unfair to know suddenly be able to protect other people’s children. However, she also knew she would always choose to do it, because no kid deserved to suffer and die.

She had lived her life holding on to her choices, on decisions she made, but those she hadn’t made were coming back to haunt her. What would she have done with Ed? Would she have let him kill her?

Because that was how it would have ended. You didn't leave your abuser. They got rid of you. 

She was rid of Ed, but not of the feelings she had never dealt with since his death. She remembered hitting his head over and over again with that pickaxe, but that was it. There had been rage, and anger, and maybe some revenge, but you never really felt avenged, did you, of that sort of degradation? She was alive though, and Ed was food for worms.

Carol turned on her other side in the bed, hoping to think of something else. She had tried that technique several times before and it had never worked out, but still.

She felt... alone.

She had been so closed off, she may have pushed everyone away. And by everyone, she meant...

Daryl. She had failed him.

The urge to shout was there but she was surrounded by people who didn't deserve such a wakeup call, and she couldn't go outside either to do it.

She thought about the way he had chosen not to blend in, and that was very much him, but it also felt like he had minimized the risks of them interacting now that she wasn't available for him anymore.

He was always out on runs lately, as they needed more and more guns. Training the Alexandrians meant they had to be able to arm them when time would come. They had an invisible deadline, the wolves’ arrival. Morgan had told them about the two she had met and Daryl and Aaron had talked about all the walkers they had met with W on their forehead. Therefore, weapons of all kind were needed, as well as ammo. There were a couple more guys going on runs with the duo, in order to make sure everybody was safer though they were all aware they could only aim to feel safer and not entirely safe.

The more she thought of him, the more she missed him, and she wished he was still outside that stupid porch, doing his thing. 

She was a rational being, had been forced to become one as months went by and the dead started rising from their graves. She knew that if someone should understand why she had been the way she had, it was Daryl, because he knew her too well. However, it didn’t mean she hadn’t failed him, or that she hadn’t hurt him. It made her sick to her stomach. She didn’t know how she was supposed to fix this, but she wanted to. Those ghosts, which were popping up left and right, she knew only Daryl could help her make sense of them, or make them look harmless. Just because Jessie had thought they were sister wives for having been beaten didn’t mean they were equipped to help each other make it through.

She got up from the bed, and went outside, sitting on the porch, where Daryl spent his first days. There was something soothing about being there, because he had been there, and she could feel him here, like he had left an imprint behind. She sat on the porch, looking at the stars, then at the sun as it started going up. 

She was surprised when someone offered her a cup of coffee. It was Morgan.

“How is Rick?” She asked.

“Getting there. How are you?” He asked.

She didn’t answer because she knew he could see how she was.

“Ah well. Crazy times we’re going through,” he finally said.

They sat on the porch, drinking coffee.


	2. Where Have You Gone?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl's POV on Carol's retreat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a complicated chapter to write, drawing the ilne Daryl would walk and how he would reflect on things. I wanted to work out his and Carol's issues from the end of season 5, it was my big challenge. Up to you to say yay or nay...

They were driving in silence: Daryl, Aaron, Marcus and Thomas. They had left three days ago, driving in two cars to look for guns as well as food. There were plenty of towns in Virginia, but going further out seemed like a good way to avoid the Wolves.

Bunch of fuckers, Daryl thought. He had heard what Morgan said about them and had seen their handiwork. He didn’t doubt for one moment that they could and would probably be a nightmare at one point, but he had made it out of Woodbury, the prison, Terminus... He had seen nightmare in living form time and time again. 

He sighed, and he felt Aaron's eyes on him. They were alone in the car with Aaron driving and the other two following behind in a truck. They had harvested some great things, he had even found toys for Judith. All of her toys were hand me down, but they had come across a truck delivering toys to a shop wherever, and Daryl had taken his time, choosing the toys he wanted for Judith. Those would never have belonged to someone else before, they would be hers.

He thought about Carol. Sometimes, on run, he would try to see if there was anything he could bring her back, that would make her smile, but in this Apocalypse of theirs, she had become quite the frugal chick. He wondered if the end of the world was solely to blame, or if it was something she had learnt to do when living with Ed. Her nightmare hadn’t started with people coming back to life.

He felt just as fucked up as the Earth they now walked. With the Turn, he had been forced into situations he usually avoided, such as belonging to a group, and in the end, he had liked it. He never took it for granted. The Turn also brought him more gifts, which seemed wrong; it was because of the Turn that he had encountered Carol. Every time he thought of her, their story came back to him, every painful and every happy moment even if the latter were sparer. They were outsiders, both of them, except he had always known he was, and she had become one over time. They had walked side by side for a long time now. While he may still feel alone, he was not lonely.

She could see through his face, and while he had a solid poker face to some, she always knew, just what he needed, just like that time away from the group when she had told him to feel and had kissed his forehead. He hadn’t realized it but he had been holding everything in, and it had made him revert back to the guy he had been when drifting with Merle. She had known what to say to bring him back to her, to them.

He had thought that she was completely right, that he needed to feel. However, when he had been left alone, he had lit that smoke, and searched in himself those feelings he needed to experience. He had found none, and had tried burning his hand to chase the numbness away. He had felt the burn on his skin, but he hadn't been able to really feel the way he used to. He had cried, for Beth, for Tyreese, but mostly he had cried for himself. This redneck hillbilly had wept about his own fate.

He had had a good cry, and had gone back to the group. Then, they had met Aaron, and suddenly, they bad been tossed in Alexandria, with its nice people, and its nice setting, and it had made no sense. He remembered one good moment during their first days, when he had mocked Carol and her clothing, but things had gotten worse from there.

Carol, she had gone. It was not the right way to say it. She still was the warrior who had saved them from Terminus, and when she looked at him, he saw the soul he had come to know, but she had taken several invisible steps back. She had retreated in herself, and had gone in warrior mode...

"Amazon's what they're called, right?" He asked out loud to Aaron who was so surprised he almost drove them off the road.

"The women fighters? Yes, those were the Amazons. I know they’re supposed to have had several great queens or leader, but don’t ask me more than that. I am pretty sure this is one book which got left behind when we came to Alexandria. ."

There was a moment of silence, but Daryl could already tell he should have kept his mouth shut.

"You're thinking about Carol, aren't you?" Aaron asked.

Daryl didn't say anything. It was okay to have an emo moment but it should be kept private. Though when he had wept for Merle, it had not been private...

"Come on, it's not that hard a guess," Aaron said, in a soft voice though Daryl had a feeling that in different circumstances, the man would have gloated. "You ask me about female warriors who I knew nothing about. Ever since Reg died, there has been one notable woman who has climbed her way to the top, on her own, Amazon-like I suppose. It reminds me of something my Great Auntie Lola used to say, well-behaved women rarely make history. Or maybe it was her roommate, Edith who used to say that."

"Great auntie Lola, hum?" Daryl said.

"Yes. She was great, and you're trying to change the subject. She never married and she used to take care of me when I was a boy. She used to have a roommate, Edith who was cool too. So you're thinking about Carol?"

Daryl had to admire the way Aaron could drone on a subject then just go back to the previous one.

"So, whatcha say is that Lola and Edith lived together? Let me guess, two bedrooms, but only one lived in?"

Aaron started rolling his eyes like he was saying shit, then he frowned and looked at Daryl.

"Oh my God. Great Auntie Lola and Edith were lovers. No wonder they were so supportive when I came out... Oh my God, now I'm picturing them in the same bed. Stop it, stop it. Tell me about Carol, I beg you, anything to remove those images from my mind!"

"Not my fault. Why do you want me to tell you about Carol?"

"You're playing obtuse. I know you were thinking of her, with your Amazons reference. Come on, who in your group went above and beyond into becoming an asset? I know I didn’t see it happen, and maybe it’s why it’s so clear to me, but I know that the Carol the Alexandrians first met was absolutely not the Carol I had spied on before. She warrriored on, and it paid off. What are you thinking about?"

"Just stuff."

Aaron groaned, and Daryl figured he would throw him a bone.

"Alexandria is a good place, right? But Carol is in a bad place, and it kills me to think about it."

"Of course it would. She's your lobster."

Daryl turned to him, at a complete loss.

"The fuck?"

"Friends, dude? Come on, I liked you. I can’t like you anymore if you’ve never watched Friends. Damn it," Aaron groaned in a low voice. "In Friends, there’s this couple, and when the guy doubts they’ll get together, his friend tell him about lobster who supposedly mate for life and walk claw in claw in aquariums. Don’t ask me if that’s really what lobsters do, I am not a sea life expert. Back to Carol, it means that she's your girl. I know it. I know we like to pretend it never happened, but I watched you guys before coming to you, and I saw the kiss she planted on you, and the way you responded to it. I saw the way she was looking out for you, and encouraging you to feel."

"And that makes her my lobster?" Daryl asked, wondering what the fuck lobsters were doing in this conversation.

"I'll find DVDs, I'll show you the extract. I will be putting it on the list for our next run. She's the one you like and love, she's your lobster, and she’s your girl. Stop pestering me with lobster questions now, and explain what you mean."

"I am not the type of guy who starts telling everybody his business," Daryl said, getting stiff.

If Aaron kept on pushing they could have a problem.

"Okay, okay. You're just thinking about Carol, and about the fact that you guys are out of sync. We'll speak no more of it."

"How do you...?

"Know about the sync part? I watched you, I witnessed the dynamics in your group, and I can't say I know everything, but I know that Michonne will always have Rick's ass and that she will die for Judith and Carl. I know that Eugene and Abraham have a complicated story. I know that in this group, the person you can't go on without is Carol."

Daryl didn't argue. She was his girl.

However, ever since they had moved in... After the events of the weeks before, when Pete had gotten himself killed, Daryl had gotten the story of how he was abusing his wife and kids, just next door.

Carol's retreat into herself made all the sense in the world. It was also a thousand daggers in his heart. He knew abuse too well, he knew the scars it left on your body and on your spirit. He had a book about childhood trauma and how to overcome them, for Fuck's sake. He just hadn't had the time or maybe the heart to open it and start reading it yet.

Point was, he knew. Not two abuses were the same, but they had shared stories they had never told anyone else in the clan. They knew more about each other's traumas than anybody else in the group.

Everybody told him at one point or another that his past didn't need to be kept secret or silent, that he could open up, but truth was that he didn't want to. Carol was the only one he wanted and could share those details with.

It made it only more painful that she had taken those steps back. He couldn't imagine what was going in her head. He knew how he would feel around Ed and Sophia, and how he wanted to kill the bastard. He had been the abused child. He had never done anything though because he knew too well that it would only anger the father and the daughter would pay for his big mouth.

It was like Carol was gone again, and a robot had taken her place.

He wanted her back. He knew he probably had no right to want her in the first place, but he wanted their friendship back, the banter, and the laughs. He wanted to pretend he didn't like the nickname Pookie, though she would probably never call him like that again, as it had been a thing at the prison, a lifetime ago. He missed this unavoidability in their relationship, the fact that while they may not know what would come next, he had known that there would come a time when they wouldn’t just be a team, they’d be more. For a guy who had never done serious relationships before, he was glad it had taken them a long time to get there, otherwise he would have freaked out, shut down, and he wouldn’t have what they had, or what they would have, if Carol started speaking to him again.

He would never blame it on Beth, or Tyreese, but he had thought, after the shelter, that he would get his moment, that he would be able to try something. If he had been reading the signs right, she was ready for him, and would not have rejected him. It should have been their moment.

Instead life had kept on being the bitch that kept on giving. They had lost Beth, and he felt like shit. She had told him he only saw another dead girl when he looked at her, and she had been right. He hated that he had been right in his assessment of her too. Losing her, then losing Tyreese... If Alexandria hadn't happened, he wasn't sure where they would be, and who would be left.

When they had come back with Morgan, they had found out that they had lost Noah too. Terminus had been hell, but it hadn't been the only one.

Daryl knew he used to feel things more deeply, but lately, the numbness had taken over him.

But Alexandria had been hope. He hadn’t wanted to do anything with it for the longest time, but now that they were there, and he was part of Aaron’s crew, he could picture them staying a while longer.

With Carol there, it should have been home.

But Carol was gone, lost in herself, and there was no chasing her, not unless she was willing to get caught.

He sighed again, feeling like an elephant was sitting on his chest. He wouldn't help her, and it killed him. He had to hope that she would come back, and he was crap at praying. Yet, he found himself hoping.

 

***

 

Two days later, they came back from their run. It had the longest they had ever done, but the profits were high. Daryl re-entered Alexandria, looking for a silhouette he knew too well.

She was always on his mind, but lately, after working out why she had almost cut him off, she was the only thing on his mind. He needed her to come back. He needed her to let him help her. 

He just needed her for fuck's sake. 

People came rushing, and the car and truck were unloaded at the speed of light. Michonne made cooing noises when she saw the toys he had chosen for Judith, and he felt warmth in his chest. There would be one lady he would have brought comfort to.

The run having been so long, he then spent some time catching up with Glenn, and Michonne, and all of his clan. They all explained the same thing, that Rick was getting better, and that Carol and Maggie were playing government with Deanna. He had known that before they had left, had seen it happen. It had been another way she had escaped him: she would get up so early in the morning and run to the leader's house. He would almost never get to see her, and though he could tell it was more about herself than about him, the rejection had stung.

Finally, he walked back home and took a shower. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to take a nap.

When he woke up, hours later, he saw that the night had set. He went out of the room which was supposed to be his, and was told that dinner had been had, but that there was dinner for him in the fridge.

"You should go eat it out on the porch," Rosita had said.

He warmed his dinner with the microwave, enjoying the modern commodities, and grabbed a fork before making his way outside.

Carol was there, and he was pretty damn sure she was standing in the same place he had occupied when he had refused to settle in at first.

"You're back," she said, and though it was pretty dark, he could have sworn he saw a glint in her eyes.

He came to sit next to her, and she didn't recoil, which made him feel like he had won the lottery.

"Thanks for this," he said, motioning to his plate.

"How do you know it was me?" She asked with a shy smile.

"Our group, they like me. Hell, they love me, and who can blame them? Yet, they don't feed me. They're not wired to think about stuff like that. You are."

She smiled softly. He started eating, wondering how to tell her that he was there, and that they could talk. There was also a hurt part of him who wanted to ask her why she had pushed him away, but he knew that it would only push her farther. He had a moment of surprise when he realized he was actually beyond good at reading this woman. Except, if he was so good, then where had he fucked up?

He had thought about it, and he had come to the conclusion that it was not a fuck up, but perhaps an absence when she needed him which had made things the way they were. When she had realized Pete was beating his wife, maybe she would have needed him around, or knowing he was there, really there would have changed something. He kept replaying the moment when she had offered him a gun and he had refused it in his head. What had she thought? What had it meant for her? For him it hadn't been about rejecting their plans, it had been about the fact that he was just as dangerous with just his crossbow, and Glenn or Maggie could have used that gun. He had never said it, though, and Carol had been retreating when it happened....

"Daryl", she said.

He swallowed his gulp and said.

"Yeah?"

"I’m sorry." 

There was a brief moment when he wanted to ask why, but the look in her eyes said it all. Bullshit, it didn't say it all, but he could see that a wall had come crashing down, and she was speaking about him. She was truly apologetic, and the way she played with end of her shirt told him how nervous she was. She wouldn't be so nervous if it had to do with anything else but them.

"S'okay," He said.

She sighed and put her head on his shoulder.

He kept on eating.

"You traded your soccer mom clothes for your old ones?" He said.

"Yes. I was tired of hiding."

He nodded.

"Do you want to go on a run tomorrow?" She asked.

She looked terrified, unsure of what his answer would be. 

"I know it's your day off, but we don't have to go far. I just thought..." 

She stopped and tilted her head on the side.

"I need to talk to you, if you will let me."

If the eyes were the gateway to one's soul, then she must have felt like she was in Hell. There was so much suffering and insecurity, so much fear, but also pride. She was begging, but would never do it out loud. 

He didn't want her begging out loud. It was in her eyes, in the way she behaved, in the way she picked her words. She was not the same woman than that he had left when he had gone for that run. Something had changed, another switch had happened.

She wanted to talk to him, and he wanted nothing more than to listen to her.

"Okay," He said. "We'll go somewhere, together, just us."

"Thank you," she said, relieved.

He wanted to shout it, thank you. She was talking to him, she was opening up to him. He knew nothing would be as easy as he would want it to be, but there it was, the moment he had waited for. It was not the moment to prowl, but the moment to be there for her, like he had been in the past. She would listen to and help. They were both acknowledging they were hurt, a little broken.

She put her head back on his shoulder and he was the happiest man on Earth. He put one arm around her shoulders, making it tricky for him to eat, but he needed the contact more than he needed the food. In his heart, he knew they would be just fine.


End file.
